Content Thyself To Be Obscurely

Mankind Are More Indebted To Industry Than Ingenuity; The Gods Set Up Their Favors At A Price, And Industry Is The Purchaser.

Music, The Greatest Good That Mortals Know, And All Of Heaven We Have Below. Music Can Noble Hints Impart, Engender Fury, Kindle Love; 40 With Unsuspected Eloquence Can Move, And Manage All The Man With Secret Art. When Orpheus Strikes The Trembling Lyre The Streams Stand Still, The Stones Admire; The Listening Savages Advance, The World And Lamb Around Him Trip The Bears In Aukward Measures Leap, And Tigers Mingle In The Dance The Moving Woods Attended As He Played And Rhodope Was Left Without A Shade.

For My Own Part, I Am Apt To Join In The Opinion With Those Who Believe That All The Regions Of Nature Swarm With Spirits, And That We Have Multitudes Of Spectators On All Our Actions When We Think Ourselves Most Alone.

A Man With Great Talents, But Void Of Discretion, Is Like Polyphemus In The Fable, Strong And Blind, Endued With An Irresistible Force, Which For Want Of Sight Is Of No Use To Him.

A True Critic Ought To Dwell Rather Upon Excellencies Than Imperfections